It Must Be Christmas: Three Holiday Stories

Once in the kitchen, Dave put down the tray and stripped off his jacket. Charlie looked up at him with naked yearning in her eyes. “Can you take him while I have something to eat? I feel like I’m going to keel over, and he can stay nice and cozy. And quiet.”


She slid the baby into his arms without waiting for an answer and immediately moved to the counter, grabbing one of the coffees and opening the paper bag, peering down inside before selecting a rather large apple Danish. Her first bite was huge, and glaze clung to the corners of her mouth.

Dave had a lot of thoughts about kissing that glaze from her lips. And if he hadn’t been holding a baby in his arms, he might have. But if—when—he kissed Charlie, he wanted to have his hands free so he could put his arms around her and hold her close.

He looked away, taking a deep breath. She wasn’t the kind of woman a man played with. He should probably just let well enough alone. Still, thinking about her was better than thinking about the baby in his arms and how the weight felt foreign and familiar at the same time. At least the little guy wasn’t crying. Dave figured he’d be okay as long as the baby slept on.

“Let’s go into my office,” she suggested. “I have my desk chair and there’s a decent armchair there too. I’ll bring the stuff and you can have some coffee. It doesn’t look like you got much sleep either.”

He frowned, following her down the hall. “It doesn’t?”

She shook her head, and he watched the ratty braid move back and forth. “It’s in the wrinkles around your eyes. And you showered this morning but you didn’t bother to shave.”

He hadn’t. He knew a day’s growth of stubble was on his cheeks. More than that, she’d noticed. Despite how exhausted she was, she’d noticed all that about him in the space of a few seconds. It was flattering as hell.

Her office was extraordinarily tidy, just as he would have expected, and she pulled the padded chair closer so they could use her desk as a table. He eased himself into the upholstery, careful not to wake the baby, and reached for the thick paper cup.

Charlie sat in her chair, took another healthy bite of Danish, and watched him with keen eyes.

“What?” he asked, after several seconds had ticked by.

“I’m trying to puzzle you out.”

“Never a good idea. I’m a complicated man.” He grinned at her, trying to dispel her solemn gaze, but it was no good. She was focused now.

“You’re good with babies.”

“Why is it so important to you?”

She paused then, furrowing her brow a bit. “You mean, your personal life is none of my business.”

“I wouldn’t put it that bluntly…”

“But that’s what you mean.”

Awkward silence settled over the room. Finally he spoke again. “No, I don’t mean that at all. It’s not an easy thing to talk about. I get that you’re curious given that we … that I … started something.”

“That’s part of it,” she agreed.

He wasn’t immune to the lovely feeling of warm baby curled up against his sweater. “You’re a tough woman, Charlene Yang.”

“Thank you.” She smiled and took a satisfied sip of her coffee.

“You want the truth? All right. Here it is. Anyone I go on a date with wants to know who Dave Ricker is. Coming right out and admitting I have an ex and a daughter … that can be intimidating. I’m not just a guy. I’m a dad.”

“And women are turned off by that?”

He was saved from answering by another tap at the front door.

Thanks to the coffee, pastry, or a bit of both, Charlie looked slightly revived as she said, “That’ll be the social worker. Hang tight.”

She was back moments later with a middle-aged woman who identified herself as Marissa Longfellow. She looked kind, like a schoolteacher, and smiled at the sight of Dave holding the baby in his arms.

“He certainly looks contented,” she noted.

“He likes Dave,” Charlie replied. “He fell asleep right away last night when Dave held him inside his jacket. Then Dave went home and it seemed like he cried for hours.”

Marissa laughed. “Sounds about right. All of mine went through a stage at this age. For three or four weeks they’d be up in the middle of the night and just wouldn’t settle. And then poof. One day they got their days and nights the right way around and I’d start getting good sleep. Or at least a good chunk of sleep at a time. Well, let’s see to the official paperwork, shall we? I have those papers for you I mentioned, Dr. Yang, and then we’ll be good to go.”

“Dave, are you okay here for a few minutes? He’s so contented at the moment.”

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